Forbearance
by daedsiluap
Summary: AU. Tom Riddle is hardly capable of friendship during his Hogwarts years, yet there is one person that he seems to at least tolerate. Whether she is his partner in crime or his savior, she has far more influence over Tom Riddle than he would ever acknowledge.
1. Chapter 1

I can't exactly explain how it happened, but Tom Riddle and I somehow became best friends. Perhaps I shouldn't use the term "best friends" because while I definitely considered him mine, the term implies certain things that weren't necessarily true about our relationship. We argued and would never admit actually enjoying each other's company, but we still spent almost every available moment together. We never shared or discussed feelings and we really couldn't care less about the happenings of each other's social lives. If I had to guess, I would say that growing up together is what made us at least tolerate each other. It was the predictability and understanding that made us close. While we were polar opposites in many ways, we still had some similarities that held us together. I don't mean to brag, but we're both pretty bright students, and both of us were incredibly polite and proper. I think that was our method of making our stoicism more socially acceptable. We liked logic and for things to make sense, and if I was being entirely honest, neither of us understood how love and other emotions seemed to control the actions of others. That being said, Tom is charismatic and a natural leader whereas I am a little shy and very awkward in conversation with people I have never met before. However, I actually have it in me to care about people and humanity as a whole. That's something Tom really struggles with- he sees people as either obstacles or pawns. Or at least, that's how he likes to make it seem to me.

"Good evening, Milagros," Tom said sitting down across from me. I looked up from my parchment that I was scribbling on. I was so entirely focused on my homework that I hadn't even noticed him approaching.

"Good evening, _Mr. Riddle_," I responded, giving him a slight glare.

He almost grinned at my irritation, "I have something I would like for you to get done."

"Calling me 'Milagros' doesn't make me feel very obligated."

"I am rather fond of your given name. You are one of the few Hispanics in this school," Tom said charmingly. Too charmingly. Almost innocently. Having known Tom as long as I have, I knew to be cautious whenever he got like this.

"I'm Hispanic whether I like my name or not," I said, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"'Milly' has a more European connotation to it," he stated.

"And your point is?" I asked, eyeing him carefully.

Tom smirked, "Asking to be called 'Milly' as opposed to 'Milagros' implies that you wish to conform. You don't want to stand out. Even if that means giving up who you really are."

I opened my mouth to say something, but words wouldn't come. I shut my mouth and started to blush angrily. I supposed it was true. Partially, at least. I didn't really want to stick out, but I wasn't giving up my identity in any way. If I _was _going to stand out, it would be because of my actions and character- not because of my name. I was more embarrassed and angry that Tom thought that about me than I was about the validity of the statement. I wasn't so weak that I would change my name to conform to these people.

"You're pouting, Milagros," Tom stated disapprovingly.

"It's Milly, Tom! Merlin, what do you want?! To psychoanalyze me some more?" I half shouted in the common room.

"You're overreacting. It's childish, really-"

"No, it's your insistence on suddenly addressing me by a name that I do not go by that's childish," I spat.

"What difference does it make what I call you?" Tom asked amused. Tom always stayed calm during my outbursts. Sometimes he'd throw in some insults, but most of the time I felt like he was mocking me with his innocent charade.

"It makes an incredible difference because you're Tom Riddle."

"And you're Milagros Rodriguez."

I rolled my eyes, "That's not the point. You have power over people, and you know it. If I allow you to start calling me by my real name, then in a matter of weeks the whole school will be referring to me as 'Milagros'."

"You flatter me, but no one is around to hear me call you that."

I put my books into my bag in frustration, "Fine! When it's just you and me, you can call me Milagros, but the second there is even a chance that some Tom Riddle wannabe is around-"

"Miss Rodriguez it is."

I groaned. Unfortunately, I knew that was as good as it was going to get. I rubbed my forehead in attempt to rub out some of my anger. I tried and failed to look at Tom as if this conversation never happened, "You said you needed help with something?"

"Let me make one thing clear, I do not need your _help._ I could easily do this myself. I'm simply very busy and have more important things to do."

"That isn't a good start," I almost groaned.

"Why must you insist on being so negative?" Tom said smirking like he knew exactly why I insisted on being so negative.

"Because you're asking me to do your dirty work," I said crossing my arms and holding back a smile. He wasn't going to coax me into it this time.

Tom held my gaze, "All things considered, I think you will be pleasantly surprised this time. I need a potion."

My arms dropped to my sides and my eyes widened. Tom had my full attention, and he knew it.

"It's advanced, and needless to say, breaking about fifteen school rules all of which could result in expulsion-"

"That's my favorite kind of potion," I said feeling myself getting increasingly excited.

Tom looked very serious, "Because I'm willing to accept these risks, this potion is obviously of great importance. No mistakes."

I rolled my eyes, "You know who you're talking to, right?"

"Well?" Tom insisted.

"Yes, alright? What's the potion?"

He pulled out a book, flipped to a page, and pushed it over to me.

"_This_?" I almost snorted, "Give me three weeks."

Tom's eyebrows rose, "Very well. I'll see you in three weeks, Milagros."

He left me pouring over the ingredients. This obviously wasn't my first time making a potion for Tom. He seemed to have a collection of friends that had certain talents. When we discovered mine in potion making, he came every once in a while with little favors for me to carry out. While I was looking over the material, several things occurred to me. The first being that I couldn't brew it in my dormitory. While it's my usual place for these potions, there was no way my dorm mates would let me get away with this one. I couldn't simply explain to them that Tom had asked me to brew it. They are either jealous of my personal relationship with Tom Riddle, however dull and platonic it may be, and would try to sabotage my potion or are a bunch of straight laces who wouldn't be able to resist getting me expelled. I decided I'd have to talk to Tom about that. We'd also have to discuss how I'd get the ingredients. He would usually get me the ingredients, and I'd brew it up as quickly and efficiently as I could, but it was never this big. I never had to be so secretive about it. My excitement kept me awake most of the night. After repeatedly reminding myself that the secret to Potions lays in patience, I at last fell asleep with dreams of brewing up my Mona Lisa haunting me every second.

The next day, I arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast to see Tom at the end of the table with Sylvia Lemming. She was Tom's flavor of the week. He would flirt with all the females, and would occasionally pick one to invite to eat breakfast with him. This made them feel special, but made sure that none of them thought they were exclusive. As Tom explained it to me, it was all a ploy to remain popular with the females, which in turn, made him popular with the males, and popularity was surprisingly important to Tom.

"Morning, Tom. Hello, Sylvia," I said sitting down.

"Hello, Miss Rodriguez," Tom said, giving me a subtle look. I knew what it meant. How could Sylvia feel special if I was stealing all the attention? He was right. I could tell by the way Sylvia glared and didn't return my greeting.

"I know you're annoyed with me already, Tom, but Professor Binns said I should talk to you if I needed any help with History of Magic, and well-" I said, feeling very proud of myself for my story.

Tom gave an exasperated sigh, "I suppose. Really, though, you should just pay more attention in class."

Normally, I wouldn't let Tom get away with that, but I forced myself to look bashful and said, "Okay, thanks."

It was all code. Tom knew that I really just needed to talk to him about the potion. Sylvia, on the other hand, did not.

As I was walking away, I heard her say, "You know that's just an excuse to spend time with you. I doubt she's really having trouble."

"Really, now?" Tom said with fake surprise, "I knew she was infatuated with me, but I had no idea it would go that far."

The last thing I heard when I left the Great Hall was Sylvia's obnoxious laugh.

"Have I mentioned to you, Tom, how much I hate it when you cut me down to look good in front of your lady friends?" I asked him while we were browsing the library later that day.

"You have brought it to my attention," he said flipping through a book.

"Really? Then why do you insist on continuing? I'm doing you a favor, I deserve a little respect," I said.

He snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf, "I have told you, I can easily brew this potion myself. I figured you'd actually enjoy feeling useful for a change."

"If you really cared that much about my feelings, you wouldn't belittle me in front of those empty headed females."

"It's all an act, Milagros," Tom said sounding very bored, "You didn't seem to have any problems _acting_ like an infatuated school girl. I merely played along."

"I was not acting like an infatuated school girl," I said indignantly.

"I don't have time for this. Is there something wrong with the potion already?"

"You mean besides having no ingredients and nowhere to brew it, correct?"

"You've never had a problem with location before," he commented browsing the books again.

I shook my head, "It was never as big as this is. My roommates wouldn't believe in a million years that I was making it for extra credit."

Tom's raised his eyebrows, "They bought that before?"

"They aren't the brightest."

"Yes, but _you_ are. I expected more from you."

I blushed at the half compliment. "Sorry to fall short of your expectations," I muttered.

He sighed, "I know a place. It's here, in the castle, but not a word of it to anyone else."

"Obviously."

Tom took me to a third floor corridor and paced back and forth for a while, muttering to himself. Just when I was about to ask him what in the world he was doing, a door appeared in the middle of the wall. I couldn't believe my eyes and took a couple of takes between the door and Tom, who was walking toward the door with purpose and not caring in the slightest about my disbelief. I decided to pull myself together as Tom would probably get annoyed and stop showing me interesting things if I completely lost it every time. I realized that my jaw hung loose and snapped it shut. I also straightened a little and tried my best to appear nonchalant. Tom walked up to the door, opened it, and gestured for me to go inside.

"Thank you," I said walking through. Once inside, I saw that this room was my personal heaven. It may be pathetically lame to say, but I nearly collapsed upon entering. Everything I would ever need to make a potion was in here. There were lines of cauldrons, knifes, ladles, fires, and vials. My heart was beating quickly and I rushed to browse some of the ingredients that the room provided for me.

"I'll put the ingredients in here in about two days," Tom said, "You said you could have it ready in three weeks?"

I nodded, still looking around the room in wonder, "At most."

"Very well. I expect that you'll need nothing else in those three weeks? I don't want to be disturbed at breakfast again."

I was too amazed to be angered by that comment, "As long as you come through with the ingredients, I foresee no problem whatsoever."

"Good."

As he opened the door to leave, I suddenly remembered, "Oh, Tom! Wait!"

He sighed, "What, Milagros?"

"How do I get into this place?"

He almost smiled, "Right. You walk past here three times, picturing this place in your head. The door will appear."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said and took his leave.

Tom and I always sat next to each other in Transfiguration. Because of the difficulty of the subject, the teacher frequently had us partner up with the person we were sitting next to. Because Tom couldn't stand partnering with someone who didn't know what they were doing, he convinced me to sit next to him for the remainder of the year. It wasn't that I didn't like Tom, but working with him was difficult. He was so impatient and needed everything to be perfect. I was the same way in Potions, but when it came to Transfiguration, I had no problem slacking off a little. Tom wouldn't have it, though. I was forced to give one hundred percent. Another downside to being his partner was that he felt comfortable expressing his frustration with me. If he had partnered with anyone else he'd still have to play handsome and charming Tom Riddle, but instead, I had to deal with his brutal critique of everything I did.

I had arrived early to Transfiguration precisely two weeks and three days after I had gotten the ingredients for the potion in hopes that Tom would be early as well so I could tell him the news. Unfortunately, he wasn't there. Every time the door opened, my heartbeat quickened and I whirled around in my seat to see if it was Tom. The first few times the door opened, I was met with disappointment, but finally, there he was. He strolled in and I took a moment to appreciate the way he walked. It was full of confidence, and he looked like he didn't even notice all the girls swooning around him. He had that air about him- like he had more important things to do. I couldn't decide if I admired that or if I wanted to slap the arrogance out of him.

"It's finished," I said proudly once he sat next to me.

"I'm sorry, what's finished?" Tom said, turning to me like he couldn't care less.

I gave him a hard look, and recognition washed over his features. His apathy was replaced with what seemed to be the Tom Riddle version of shock. Tom doesn't show emotion very often, and when he does, it's about the tenth of what a normal person expresses when they're feeling apathetic. That makes it extremely difficult to know what Tom is thinking or feeling.

"Already?" he asked, "You made sure to-"

"Yes, Tom. Everything is accounted for. I'm actually a little hurt by your lack of faith," I said. I would never grow tired of impressing Tom, and I was shamelessly enjoying every second of it.

"I see. Thank you."

"No problem. Wouldn't want to see you get your hands dirty," I said looking towards the front. A couple minutes passed, and the professor had yet to show up.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked what it's for."

I turned toward him slowly, "Why does that surprise you? I've never asked before."

"Yes, but you said it yourself that this was of a little bit higher… magnitude than the others."

"Do you want to tell me what it's for?"

Tom looked like he had no idea what to make of that question. He allowed some confusion to seep into his countenance and stayed quiet.

I shrugged, "I kind of figured if you wanted to tell me, you would have."

He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back, and went from confused to charming in a fraction of a second, "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"I guess. That's some pretty heavy stuff you're dealing with," I said putting up my guard. I preferred Tom when he was mean. I think that might be a little unusual and backwards, but charming Tom scared me. This was when I had no idea what he was really thinking. This was when he was his most dangerous.

"'Pretty heavy stuff' is a bit of an understatement, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps," I said cautiously.

"Do you know what that could do in the wrong hands?"

"I made it. I think I'm fully aware."

"Exactly. You made it. It's on your conscience if something bad happens with it, but you don't care. You'd make it for anyone without even asking what their using it for," he said smirking.

"I wouldn't make it for anyone," I muttered.

"That's cute. Playing infatuated school girl again?"

"No. Merlin, shut up," He was making me furious. I wasn't another skank that Tom used to get what he wanted. We were friends. I hated the voice he was using with me, too. That condescending voice he used with his other female companions. I was different.

He smirked, but actually did stay quiet. I had no idea what exactly he was getting at or what he thought he won by that conversation, but he was obviously very proud of himself for the remainder of class. When I got to the room Tom showed me later that night, the potion was gone. I didn't care. I just thought about what he'd said over and over again. Was I infatuated with Tom? Was he just using me? I made potions for him, but I thought I definitely amounted to more than that. He didn't bat his eyelashes at me. He sat down and told me his tricks with women. I thought a mutual respect existed between us, but maybe that's what he wanted me to think. Tom Riddle wove a tangled web of lies, I knew that for sure, but I also knew that he never lost track. He never slipped up. He had everyone right where he wanted them. What made me different?


	2. Chapter 2

Now, Tom Riddle had told me not to interrupt him at breakfast ever again, but I had been exploited by Tom again and again. That meant all bets were off. The morning after he had taken the potion, I stormed into the Great Hall and made a beeline for Tom and some girl whose name I couldn't remember and couldn't care less about.

"Tom, I need to talk to you," I said, leaning over to put my hands on the table and look right into his eyes. I was done playing his games and I wanted to make sure that he knew that.

"I'm busy right now," he said looking at me with sharp warning in his eye. Noted and ignored.

"Does it look like I care?" I spat.

He looked at what's-her-name longingly, "Does it look like _I_ care?"

I laughed, "Not presently, no, but imagine how much you're going to care when I tell the headmaster what's in that-"

"Excuse me, Veronica. Miss Rodriguez has obviously confused me with somebody else. I'll return to you shortly after I sort this out," Tom said standing and leaving the Great Hall with me. He held open the door to an abandoned classroom for me.

"Thank you," I said out of habit.

He closed it and locked it. He turned, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at me with an expectant fury.

"I'm not making you any more potions."

"I'm sorry?" he said with his eyes raging.

"You heard me perfectly well, Tom. I'm not going to be another tool in your box, and I'm not going to put on a scene for your lady friends anymore."

"Where, exactly, is this coming from?" He said calmly, but with an undertone that told me that I had better have a damn good explanation, and while I knew it would never be good enough for Tom, I decided it was best to be honest.

"Yesterday, you made me think, Tom. What if we're just friends when you need a potion? You talk to me, make me feel like I'm your friend, and then I make potions for you. What if I'm being manipulated by you just like everyone else? You're smart, Tom, you can keep track of it. I don't know why I thought I was different or excluded from that."

"Don't flatter yourself, Milagros. You know as well as I do that I'm perfectly capable of making these potions-"

"Yes, but you don't _like_ to do it! Why would you go through the chore of making a potion when you can say a few nice words and have someone do it for you?"

"When have I ever used nice words with you?"

"Never, but that's because you know that I don't respond to that very well. You know exactly what to say to make me do it."

"Merlin, Milagros, for all the enlightenment that you say took place yesterday, you forget that I just have to mutter the word potion and you come running. You practically beg me to give you a reason to concoct something dangerous," he said smirking.

"But you encourage it! You take my talents with potions and manipulate it to work for your benefit."

"That's not me manipulating you. That's me giving you a chance to use your talents."

I looked at him seriously, "I guess the point I'm trying to make is this, if I didn't make you potions, would you still talk to me?"

He leaned against the wall. Despite my anger, I couldn't help but think of how devilishly handsome Tom Riddle really was, and it was this side of Tom that I liked. The cold, calculating, upfront Tom. The honest one that didn't care about my feelings. The Tom that thought I deserved the truth.

"Of course," he said and his stupid smirk appeared, "I'd still need a Transfiguration partner."

"You're despicable!" I spat.

"Truly, your words wound me."

We glared at each other for a good minute or so before I realized how unproductive this was. I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice neutral.

"I propose a payment method," I said.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you pay me to make potions for you. It allows you to have potions made whenever you feel like it, but it also means that you don't have to play nice or whatever it is you do to get me to make potions for you."

"Why do you keep insisting that I make you do this? You do it of your own free will."

"Just humor me. It would help me sleep better at night."

"Do you have any idea how low your insomnia is on my list of concerns? I promise you, it's not far from the bottom." Tom said.

"Merlin, Tom. Don't make it such a big deal. It's simple. It doesn't have to be money. Just give me something, and I'll make you a potion. That way, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to and yet you still get your potion."

"You overestimate the worth of your services."

"Very well, it looks like you won't have to be dealing with my services any longer."

"That's fine by me. Now that we have this sorted out, let me make it inescapably clear to you," Tom hissed as he approached me. His face was barely inches away from mine, and I could feel my stomach drop. Tom Riddle was downright terrifying when he wanted to be, "Do not ever interrupt me at breakfast again. If that girl believes us to be involved, it will ruin everything."

I swallowed and gathered my courage, but my voice was still weak and shaky, "My apologies, Mr. Riddle, for interrupting what I'm sure was your finest performance yet."

"Well, Milagros, it certainly wouldn't hurt you to take a few notes," he said deadly and quietly, still mere inches away.

I backed away and forced on a smile, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your time."

I walked passed him and left the classroom. I heard Tom exit a few seconds later, but I didn't turn around and didn't wait for him. When I got to the Great Hall, I could still feel Tom's presence behind me, and I saw Veronica giving me one of the dirtiest looks I've ever received in my life. To this day, I can't tell you exactly why I did it. I think I was trying to prove something to Tom. I don't know whether it was that I was still open to be friends or that I actually did have some acting skills, but I walked up to Veronica and made myself blushed horribly. It wasn't that hard, I was a naturally shy person and I was about to talk to someone that hated me.

"I'm so sorry, Veronica," I muttered, not making eye contact, "I can't even tell you how embarrassing that was."

"It's fine," she said coolly indicating that it was not, actually, fine.

"No, I can't even believe how much I messed things up. Tom was sure nice about it though. I think he really likes you."

"What?"

"I don't know. He was really excited to eat breakfast with you. He kept talking about the beautiful girl he left at the table. I messed everything up. I'm so sorry."

"He really said that?" Veronica said in an excited voice.

I nodded and seeing Tom approach said, "I'll see you later, Veronica."

"Yeah, later, Milly."

As I walked away, I looked back at Tom sitting down with her. They exchanged a few words, and suddenly his eyes shot straight towards me. He looked about as disbelieving as Tom could look. I turned away and smiled. Impressing Tom Riddle was something I would never get tired of, and I was shamelessly enjoying every second of it.

Over the next few months, Tom and I talked very little. In Transfiguration, we were acting as we always had, but Tom never asked me to accompany him to the library like he used to. I was still trying to figure out if I was still being influenced, and it was exhausting. I was analyzing every move I made and every word I spoke to see if I did it because of some subliminal suggestion of Tom's. He noticed something off about me. I still did my share of the work in Transfiguration, but it wasn't up to my usual standard. That really frustrated him.

I eventually got to the point where I didn't care. Sure, I would watch out for it and be aware when Tom was asking me to do something for him, but I wouldn't let it become a part of my everyday life. In all honesty, I just wanted my friend back.

I sat in the common room next to the fire. Everyone else had gone to sleep, but I was still doing homework. Suddenly someone sat in the armchair next to me, causing me to jump about ten feet in the air.

"Goodness, Tom," I said, trying to catch my breath.

"Evening, Milagros," he said.

"Don't ever do that again."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so focused on one thing; it makes it easy for others to sneak up on you."

"That may be true, but I'll risk it. I don't really want to have to pull an all-nighter tonight," I said gesturing to the books in my lap.

"I can help you."

I nearly dropped my book. Tom Riddle was offering to help me and that alone is a miracle, but after not talking for months? He must have been sick or something.

"It's not really a matter of understanding so much as it is getting it on paper," I said.

"I see. Then I suppose you'll have to accept this for payment," he said handing me a package. It was covered in brown paper and tied with string, and it was a little less than the size of my palm.

"Payment? For what?"

He ran his hand through his hair, "I'm a busy man, and quite frankly, you're the only other person in this school who is at least competent when it comes to potion making."

I almost said something about my abilities being more than "at least competent," but I was excited to have Tom talking to me outside of class, and I didn't want to scare him away. Instead I said, "What do you need made?"

"Black Fire," he said and I nodded.

"In a week," he added.

"A week?!"

"Really, Milagros, you're more than capable," he said dismissing my outburst.

"I don't think you quite understand what you're asking-"

"Milagros! This is not flexible like it used to be. I have offered you payment and a deadline. You are an employee of mine. You wanted this. I expect results," Tom said furiously.

"Alright, alright!" I said standing up. I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to think, "If you can get me the ingredients tonight, I _might_ be able to finish it by next week, but I can't promise anything."

"You'll have your ingredients in a matter of hours."

"Great," I said sitting down again, "Looks like an all-nighter after all."

"I believe I've made it clear. Your sleep does not concern me."

"I'm aware," I said, and we fell into a strange silence.

"It intrigues me," he said suddenly.

"What does?"

"Are you truly so passionate about something that you'd risk your sleep and potential expulsion for the simple pleasure of making it? Again, you aren't going to ask what I'm using it for?"

"Believe it or not, there are a few people in this world who truly don't care about what Tom Riddle Jr. does in his spare time."

"Unless you feel like you're being manipulated. Then Tom Riddle becomes the center of everything, doesn't he?" Tom said smirking.

"I'm going to finish my homework in my dorm," I said standing up.

"Not yet. I am in need of a favor."

"Tom, between my homework and your potion, I really don't have time," I said almost apologetically.

"You will make time. Take a seat," he said with his sharp eyes and cold tone making it clear that it was non-negotiable.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't take orders that Tom barked at me, but this was different. Tom was so incredibly serious and insistent. I had never seen him like this. I slowly sank into my chair.

"I understand you and Michael Smith had a relationship."

"Yes, is that allowed?" I snapped.

He smirked, "Do you know of a Slytherin named Claire Windham?"

"Yes, her father works at the Ministry, right?" I said completely confused.

"Correct. It is my plan to woo Claire Windham and use her fortune for my own purposes for the next few months."

"That's characteristically shallow of you," I commented.

Tom ignored me, "In this relationship, it will be necessary to exchange certain intimacies."

"Okay. Great."

"I have never before found it worth my time to engage in such matters. I will not appear weak and inexperienced. She will not have that power over me," he stated leaning back in his chair. Most men would sound almost vulnerable admitting this, but Tom seemed more amused and cocky than anything.

There was a long pause.

"Right. Er, do you want me to talk to Claire for you?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't understand why he was telling me this.

He smirked, "No. I need you to give me experience."

My stomach dropped, and my mouth went instantly dry. I felt a blush come that I couldn't fight.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand-"

"Come now, Milagros. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you."

I tried to get a grip.

"Why don't you get Veronica or Sylvia or one of the millions of other girls to do it?" I asked almost desperately.

"Because presently, you are the only woman who won't care. In fact, you would most likely feel embarrassed if word got out. I hope to use that to my advantage."

He had a point there.

"I don't have much experience, though. Michael and I were together for only a couple of months," I said.

"Claire Windham and I will only be together a couple of months."

"You're asking a lot of me," I said.

"I considered bringing payment, but I ultimately decided that would be disrespectful."

"You decided that?" I asked completely shocked that he took the time to think about it.

"Yes, you're not a whore," he said and I blushed further. That was probably the nicest thing Tom Riddle has ever said to me. In fact, it was probably the nicest thing he'd ever said to anyone and actually meant it.

"So you're hoping your boyish charms will come through for you?" I asked.

"Something like that."

There was a pause, and I mulled it over. How much could it hurt, really? I took a deep breath.

"Alright, then," I said hesitantly.

I stood up and he followed suit. I approached him with my heart beating rapidly and my palms sweating. I couldn't believe I was in this position and my mind was going a mile a minute. Tom grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him.

"Tom… I don't… I don't know about this," I said backing up and looking at the floor. It was one of the few times I let Tom hear insecurity in my voice.

"Milagros," he said in a serious tone that made me look up into his eyes. Something was different. His gaze wasn't as formal as it usually was. Sure, it was still serious, but it was almost like he was insisting that it would be okay. There was overwhelming confidence but also a kind of almost vulnerability behind his eyes, and I knew I was one of the few people he had ever looked at like that. He gently tugged on my wrist and I walked forward. I could feel his body heat which was something new to me. Tom never came close. My brain was trying to process everything new, and in what seemed like half a second, he bent down and pressed his lips to mine. Then my mind went blank. All I could think about was the fact that Tom Riddle was kissing me and the wonderful feel of his lips on mine. They were a little hard, but they were also warm and strangely comforting. As I began to move my lips against his, I felt his hands snake around my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in response. After a while, Tom backed up a little, sat down on an armchair, and pulled me down so I sat sideways on his lap. No words were said, he just brought his face to mine and we were kissing again. This time he was hungrier, more aggressive, but still respectful in some kind of way. When I almost hesitantly ventured with my tongue, he welcomed it, though it didn't take long for him to take control.

I don't know how long we sat there kissing, but I could've stayed there for the rest of my life. Like everything with Tom Riddle and I, it was a battle for dominance. He usually came out on top, but occasionally I would be allowed free reign. Either way, it was enjoyable for me. I suddenly realized that my lips were swollen, and that brought me down from my high long enough to realize what exactly I was doing. I was on Tom Riddle's lap, kissing him like there was no tomorrow so that he could sufficiently make out with Claire Windham. There was something wrong with that. I broke it off, and looked into his eyes. There was that same almost soft look in them. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

"Claire will be impressed," I said breathless.

His gaze hardened, "Excellent. You are a valuable asset, Milagros."

"Thank you, Tom. I'm glad I could play my part in your evil scheme to break Claire Windham's heart," I said. It then occurred to me that I was still sitting in his lap and his hands were still resting on my knee and the small of my back. I blushed and ran my hand through my hair.

"I should work on my homework, so I can get to your potion tonight," I said awkwardly.

"Yes, looks like quite an eventful night for you," he said unmoving.

"Well, I can't say I expected…" I didn't know how to end that sentence. This? Kissing practice with Tom Riddle? Even talking to you after two months?

"Regardless, Milagros, I am very pleased."

"Right," I said mustering up the willpower to leave Tom's surprisingly warm embrace, "You're welcome, I guess."

Tom smirked, "I am seeing an entirely new side of you, Milagros. I take it this awkward, bashful girl is not something many people get the privilege to see?"

I let out a nervous laugh hating the blush I could feel abrasively coating my cheeks, "I'm just not good at this stuff, Tom. I was the wrong person to ask."

Tom stood slowly and his smile faded. He approached me and cupped my face gently with his hand. He then brought his lips to the top of my forehead and pressed them there for a second or two before pulling away and slowly lowering his hand. It was a loving gesture that I could have never pictured Tom doing in a million years, but it was one of the most comforting and natural things I've ever experienced.

"With the knowledge you've given me, I now know what to expect and can use Claire to my full advantage. Whether you deem yourself worthy is another matter entirely," he said almost to himself.

"It isn't a matter of worth so much as it is a matter of skill."

"Regardless, getting ahold of Claire's finances will be a walk in the park."

"I would say that you don't have a prayer, but you have the female population wrapped around your finger. You can probably get away with it."

"Easily."

I straightened a little at that, "I value our friendship, Tom, but it is my moral imperative to inform you that you are a shallow git."

Tom smirked, "The ends justify the means."

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing, and began packing up my books to take to my dormitory.

"Did you sleep with him?"

My jaw dropped and I stood up to look at Tom. He looked almost as emotionless as ever, except that there was a fire behind his eyes. I closed my mouth and stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

"Michael. Did you have sex with him?"

I swallowed, and my heart started beating rapidly again. I wasn't comfortable disclosing that information with anyone.

"No, I didn't. I had my reasons."

"Enlighten me," Tom ordered.

"I don't know. You wouldn't understand. I mean, I hardly understand it myself, but you're practically a sociopath-"

"Milagros, your ramblings are very tiresome."

"Just give me a second to figure out what I'm trying to say," I said taking a deep breath, "I'm not religious, and I don't necessarily want to wait until marriage, but I like the idea of having something that you've done with only one person. I guess I just want that person to have access to something that no one else has ever had."

Tom looked at me for a very long time after this confession. His eyes were very hard and serious, but the fire seemed to die down a bit. I kept waiting for a response, but the seconds ticked by until finally he spoke.

"Your ingredients are here," he said, and just like that the door to the common room opened. Avery and the other jerks Tom hung out with came striding in with their hands full. They always treated me with respect, probably because Tom made them, but my other friends were not so fortunate.

"Good evening, Milly," Avery said, "We got the best of the best here. Nearly had to jinx ol' Binns to get it, didn't we, Yaxley?"

"Yeah, shame we didn't, really. I've been looking for an excuse," Yaxley said grinning wickedly, "Bastard gave me a Troll in History of Magic."

"Well, thank you for getting it for me. I really do appreciate it," I said, genuinely.

"Didn't really get it for you, now. If Tom needs a potion, we'll do what it takes to make sure he gets it," Yaxley said. I don't know how Tom could handle the sycophancy of it all.

"Yaxley. Avery. Miss Rodriguez has expressed her appreciation and no reason remains for you to still be here. Leave us. You've done well," Tom ordered. They went up to the dormitory like the man-servants they are.

He turned to me, "I still expect the potion in a week."

"Doesn't the favor I just did for you grant me some slack?"

He smirked again, "It wouldn't be a challenge, then, would it?"

I couldn't help smiling a little at that, "We'll see what I can do. Good night, Tom."


	3. Chapter 3

I walked up the stairs, grabbed my books and cauldron. When I came back down to grab the ingredients, Tom was gone. As I was leaving to go to the room Tom showed me, where I would probably be spending the rest of the night, I noticed the package Tom gave me for payment. I had completely forgotten about it. I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket, deciding that I could open it and sort through the events of tonight when I wasn't racing the clock. I hustled to the third floor corridor, and walked into the room. It was exactly like it had been before, except this time, there was a coffee maker in the corner. Thinking that Tom must have added that, I started a fire and began cutting up the ingredients.

After adding the initial ingredients, it was supposed to simmer for about 2 hours, I immediately pulled out my Charms homework and began working on that. Unfortunately, I couldn't even begin to practice my spells with the thoughts running through my head. Tom Riddle's kiss… I wasn't going to lie to myself. It was wonderful, and he blew Michael out of the water. With Michael, it was intense and exciting. There was always a certain fear of being caught that kept the adrenaline going, but with Tom, I realized that throughout the whole ordeal, the thought of someone walking in never occurred to me. I always found myself wanting more with Michael, but with Tom, it was a slow and intense kiss that never needed to pick up speed. We weren't making out as much as we were enjoying each other's company and closeness, and we could have kept at it.

I began replaying the kiss again and analyzing every little part, but certain things still didn't make sense to me. Did he intend for it to go as long as it did? If he didn't, then did that mean that Tom Riddle got… distracted? Was that even possible? And what was with him asking about my nonexistent sex life? Was this more than Tom simply practicing for Claire? These questions didn't have answers, but I wasted more time than I had to spare trying to find them anyway. Every time I sat down and attempted to do homework, it turned into me fantasizing. It was ridiculous, and I knew it, but I couldn't stop.

After chopping up a bit of root, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the package Tom had given me. Whether it was the lack of sleep or a desperate desire for a distraction, curiosity got the better of me. I slowly pulled on the strings and unwrapped the paper. I pulled out a nice, silver pocket watch and chuckled to myself. I was fairly certain that Tom didn't think I remembered, but back in our orphanage days, there was an adult who frequently visited the orphanage. He never adopted anyone or had any reason to be there, really. He just liked to visit, and all the other children loved when he called. He would sit them in his lap and tell them all about how important he was to the world. Tom and I hated him. He would come in dressed in a mismatched suit with as much jewelry as he could fit on his person. Every time I saw him, he would be sporting new rings and watches. It was an ostentatious show that he had money and we did not. We always interpreted it as though visiting orphans made him feel better about his current way of life.

Tom and I would always say that he wouldn't even notice if one of the children stole something off of him because it was the image, not the jewelry itself that he cared for. It later escalated into joking about how we could steal something new every visit and be rich by the time we left this place, but it was always just a joke and we never thought anything more of it. Then one day he came to the orphanage, and was bragging to one child about how he had gotten a pocket watch as a gift from the royal family for saving their dog. I rolled my eyes at Tom, and he said to me while glaring at the man, "I bet he wouldn't even notice if it disappeared."

"Of course not. He's got so many, and I doubt he'll remember every single thing he wore today," I replied.

"Let's see," Tom said, and walked over to the man. They exchanged a few words and then he sat Tom on his lap. My jaw dropped. I had never seen Tom touch another human being, let alone a grown up, but there he was smiling and laughing as the man told a story. The man didn't notice, however, that the smile didn't reach Tom's eyes and that the laugh was always a fraction of a second too late to be genuine. After one good story, I saw Tom hug the man and get off his lap. I tried to hide my shock as he walked toward me. I raised an eyebrow at him while attempting to look unimpressed. He stood in front of me, smirked, and reached into his pocket to pull out the pocket watch.

I grinned, "You're good."

"Tell me something I don't know, Milly," he said pocketing it again. He gestured for me to follow him into the other room. We read and talked and kept an ear out for the man's realization that he had lost a gift from the royal family, but it never came. The man left without incident, and came back again and again, confirming our theory. It was never missed, and now Tom had given it to me. It was much nicer than anything I was expecting, but the sentimental value of it was the best part for me. I'd have to remember to thank him for it.

After the minor distraction of the pocket watch, I continued alternating between the potion and my homework all night, and, thankfully, my homework was finished and the highly sensitive Black Fire potion was still brewing on schedule. Neither was to the standard I would have liked, but it was acceptable at the very least. With a little over twenty minutes until my first class of the day, I decided that I didn't have time to shower or eat, so I simply pulled my hair into a messy French braid and changed into a clean set of robes. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and headed to Transfiguration. Tom was already there and as I sat next to him, I couldn't help but think of how tired and horrible I must look. I had really hoped to make a better morning-after-kiss impression, but Tom didn't say a word to me until we were working on our assignment for the day.

"You're doing that wrong," he said condescendingly when I tried to transform a hedgehog into a pincushion. I growled and tried again. He sighed impatiently and grabbed the hedgehog. In one swish of his wand, it was transformed into a pincushion. I refused to say anything or even make eye contact. Instead, I wrote up the notes I was supposed to take on what I saw.

"If I knew that last night would render you so incompetent-"

"Don't even start, Mr. Riddle," I spat.

"You are in no position to give me any orders, Milagros," he said seriously.

I was too exhausted to think of a response, so I grumbled and rested my head on the desk.

"I hope this doesn't become a regular thing," Tom said, antagonizing me further, "because I intend to initiate my relationship with Claire today. I might be in need of more favors, should the situation arise."

I sat bolt upright, "What? No, Tom! That was one time!"

"Are you refusing to assist me?" he asked.

"Yes!"  
>He smirked, "Perhaps you require payment after all?"<p>

"Amusing, but you said yourself that I am not a whore. People that aren't whores don't do certain favors for people in a relationship," I said, realizing as I was saying the words that they made much more sense in my head.

"Get some sleep, Milagros. We can discuss this later when you're actually capable of a coherent response."

"I thought you didn't care about my sleep?"

"Certainly not, but I don't exactly take pleasure in talking to a wall either," he said smoothly.

"Sod off," I said turning back to my notes.

Tom smirked but didn't say anything.

After History of Magic, I went to the Great Hall for lunch with my friends. "Friends" might be a bit of a loose term. They are females with whom I shared a dorm and classes, and I realized that my time at Hogwarts would be much easier if I avoided conflict and got along with these people, so I ate my meals with them, tried to be friendly, and occasionally accompanied them on outings that weren't school related. They were nice enough people, but it was sometimes difficult for me to be interested in the same things they were and I always felt like there was so much more emotion in the room than I could keep up with. Nevertheless, they seemed to enjoy my company and I didn't mind theirs.

As we were discussing the ridiculous amounts of homework we had this week, Adelaide, a beautiful red headed Slytherin with a natural talent for knowing everything about everyone, came up to the table, "Did you guys hear?"

"About what?" I asked, trying to seem interested.

"Tom Riddle… He's got himself a girlfriend!" she said painfully. Unfortunately, my friends, like the rest of the female population in Hogwarts, were head over heels for Tom. They were always asking me to find a way to talk to him, and they were jealous that I spent time with Tom. It made my relationship with my friends difficult and I desperately tried to assure them that our closeness came from growing up together, that we were the closest each other had to siblings, and that it was nothing more than that, as far from the truth as that may be.

"Oh my god!" gasped Katie. Katie was everything you'd imagine a good Slytherin to be; a dark haired, thin Pureblood with a beautiful 5'9 stature, and a massive ego to top it all off.

"Who?" said Hephzibah, a loud female who simply couldn't contain herself in most cases. She was blunt and witty and completely unlady-like. And also my favorite.

Adelaide smiled, enjoying the attention, "Claire Windham!"

"What?" Katie asked, obviously confused and thinking herself a better candidate, "How did that happen?"

"Tom asked her if she'd accompany him to Hogsmeade, which of course, she said yes, and then kissed her in front of everybody! Just like that!"

This shocked me. Tom wasn't one for public displays. He obviously wanted everyone to know about it, and for the life of me, I couldn't think of any reason why. One thing became very clear, however. He was planning on making it very public from the beginning. That's why he wanted me to give him some experience. Not that there's really much to it, but Tom didn't want to look like a fool in front of all those people. But why did he do it in public in the first place? I was insanely curious.

"Did he say anything else?" I asked.

Adelaide looked at me with eyebrows raised, "Really, Milly. I thought you would be the first to know."

"Yeah, don't you guys spend the whole summer together? And aren't you Transfiguration partners?" Hephzibah asked.

"I don't think living in the same establishment constitutes spending the summer together," I said.

"I guess you've been replaced by those friends of his, Milly," Katie said. I couldn't help but hear how happy she was about this.

"Just tell me what happened with Claire," I said, rolling my eyes, and barely holding back my frustration.

"It's just like I said," Adelaide told me, "I saw the whole thing. A lot of people did, actually."

"She's so lucky," Katie said dreamily, "Though it does take away from his charm a little, doesn't it? The fact that he'd go for someone so plain? I don't know, I didn't think he was interested in anyone."

"He's not," I said. They all looked at me.

"Jealous, Milly?" Hephzibah said smirking and poking me in the side.

"No, I think you're jealous enough for the both of us, Hephzibah," I said, smiling, but secretly, I did feel something upon hearing this news. It wasn't a very strong feeling like a pain or anything like that- more like a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe it was jealousy, but more than likely, it was just my lunch fighting back. At least, that's what I told myself.


	4. Chapter 4

I can honestly say that over the next few days, Tom and Claire's relationship was hardly noticed by me. Nearly every time Tom and I were together, we were either in a situation where Claire couldn't be involved or one where she wouldn't want to be involved, as our time was either spent being partners in classes or reviewing and critiquing books together in the library. The only other time I ever really conversed with Tom was when he needed a potion made, and because I had just finished the Black Fire for him, that never happened. I did see them together, however, either at meals in the Great Hall or in the Common Room after classes, but for whatever reason, whenever I saw them, I felt a very strong, overwhelming urge to look away. It was so foreign and uncomfortable to me. I frequently tried to imagine Tom telling her things and exchanging intimacies like couples do and I simply couldn't. I had known Tom longer- I had known Tom _better_- than anyone else on the planet, yet the kindest thing I could ever remember hearing him say was, "you're not a whore." And then I remembered. That was the kindest thing he said that he had actually meant. Come to think of it, I most definitely had heard Tom say charming and sweet things, and multiple times, too, but it was as if that Tom was a complete separate person to me. I had forgotten that that Tom existed. Suddenly, I could see them together perfectly, and I found myself wishing I couldn't.

I tried desperately to not let anything show during Transfiguration, and thankfully, it seemed as though Tom was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice if I was acting strangely. It was subtle, but he remained incredibly focused on his work and even let an opportunity to ridicule my failed Transfiguration attempt fly past him. Something else, something big, must have been on his mind. Once I was paying attention, I noticed that Tom was making very slight and very frequent glances toward Professor Dumbledore. They weren't glares, just half second emotionless peeks up from whatever he was doing, like he was making sure Professor Dumbledore was still there. I mentally shrugged and wrote it off as some strange effect Claire was having on his mental state. I found myself blaming Claire more and more for things that couldn't really be her fault, but it always made me feel better so I never made an effort to stop it.

Near the end of class, everyone had finished their work and was talking amongst themselves. Professor Dumbledore had never minded chatter as long as everyone was done, so the noise level exceeded the usual whispers that were common in every other class. Tom and I usually don't talk too much during these times as Tom hated wasting class time and would instead get a head start on his homework, but today, he was unusually chatty.

"Those favors you did for me, Miss Rodriguez, did everything go according to plan?" he asked extremely seriously.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, almost hurt at what I thought he was suggesting.

"Did you make them correctly?" he clarified impatiently.

"Of course. It wasn't difficult to make, it was the time constraints that had me concerned," I said defensively.

"But there were no mistakes made due to the time constraints?" he asked looking at me dead in the eye.

"I don't make mistakes, Tom," I spat, "and if I did, I certainly wouldn't just continue on with it and hand it off to you. I know you know me better than that."

"I know nothing of the sort," he stated as class was finishing. He gathered his books and left without another word, and I walked to History of Magic alone and completely confused. Did it not work correctly? Did I do something wrong? I shook my head. There was no way that was a possibility. But did that mean Tom actually used it? I mean, he always said he _needed _potions, but I always thought he just experimented with them. I had never seen any evidence to suggest that he ever used anything that I made for him. Take Black Fire, for example; why would he ever need that? Where would he even encounter Black Fire that he needed to walk through? It didn't make any sense.

I walked into History of Magic and took my seat. I began taking my books out and arranging them how I wanted when I heard a series of gasps. I looked to the front of the class and my eyebrows rose. Initially, I thought I saw one of the house ghosts, but as I looked closer, I noticed that its features were that of Professor Binns. That was impossible as Professor Binns was still alive. Or at least he had been this morning. The ghost however was acting very much like Professor Binns in that he had no regard for the students before him. If he had the slightest idea that his pupils were shocked and scared, he certainly didn't seem concerned with the matter. He simply paced, or floated, back and forth, readying himself for the lecture he was about to give as he did every morning.

"Pro-professor Binns?" Adelaide asked carefully.

"Yes, Miss Davis?" the ghost responded.

"Respectfully, what, er… happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" the ghost asked with genuine confusion, "I'm afraid I don't understand your question and since class is starting, you'll have to talk to me afterwards to clarify. Now, where did we leave off last class? Oh, yes, Gertrude the Terrible…"

Professor Binns droned on as he usually did. Dying was the most interesting thing this man ever did, and somehow he was still able to make it seem extremely dull. Just because class began, however, didn't mean that the whispers would stop. Derek Hanna, a larger boy whose only friends were teachers who felt sorry for him, seemed to know the most.

"He just woke up like this, apparently. Fell asleep by the fire, woke up a ghost," Derek whispered, saliva flying from his lips. It seemed like he couldn't contain his excitement at finally having something interesting to say, nor the excessive salivating that came with it.

"It was natural?" someone behind me whispered.

"Was anyone else there?" another student asked.

"I don't know," Derek admitted and then quickly added, "But he was alone in the Staffroom. I'll bet he died of old age."

At that point, I looked over at Tom Riddle. He acted as though he was taking notes and listening to Professor Binns as he always did, but he was concentrating much too hard for that and his head was slightly tilted toward the conversation the students were having. Tom was listening, and for about half a second, I was very confused. Tom never cared about what other people were saying, why should he now? Then the pieces came together in my mind.

The first potion I brewed for Tom in the secret room was a Bloodroot Potion, a poison that would incapacitate and potentially kill anyone that drank it. It isn't too complicated to make, but it is highly sensitive and dangerous to brew which is why I couldn't have it in my dormitory. My mind jumped to Transfiguration. Tom was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore in class- that's why he kept glancing at him and asked me if anything went wrong with the potions. Tom must have tried to poison Professor Dumbledore, but somehow ended up poisoning Professor Binns instead. I don't think Tom's intent was to kill because I certainly doubted that the potion was potent enough to kill Professor Dumbledore, but Professor Binns, on the other hand, was far older and a great deal less powerful. He didn't stand a chance. I began wondering how Tom went about it. He couldn't have put it in a drink as it would be way too easy to detect, not to mention incredibly obvious to anyone investigating. Tom clearly wanted it to look natural otherwise he wouldn't have asked for Bloodroot, so how did he do it?

_Fell asleep by the fire, woke up a ghost._

I mentally slapped myself. It was so obvious.There's an age old trick with Black Fire potion that makes it so popular. In its truest form, it allows the drinker to walk through Black Fire, but you can guess how many wizards and witches actually encounter Black Fire. With a minor additive, Black Fire can be used to allow another potion to almost fuse with flames of a fire, causing the effects of the added potion to radiate with the heat of the potion for a short period of time. Tom poisoned the fire in the Staffroom at a time when Dumbledore was typically there. I smirked to myself. Tom wasn't nearly as clever as he thought.

All that was left to figure out was why, and I don't mean "why did Tom try to poison Dumbledore?" because I knew the answer to that one. Professor Dumbledore has been keeping an eye on Tom ever since that Myrtle girl died last year which is completely understandable, actually. Even I knew Tom had something to do with the murder though we never discussed it. The biggest hint for me was that almost immediately after the occurrence, he started getting a lot of new friends, friends that hated Muggleborns. Professor Dumbledore must have noticed as well because since then, Dumbledore has practically been breathing down Tom's neck. Now, whenever Tom planned to do anything, he had to account for Professor Dumbledore and find ways to avoid him. For Tom to want him gone or out of commission, Tom had to have something planned that couldn't be hidden so well. Curiosity got the better of me, and I was determined to figure out why. Why was it suddenly so important to get rid of Professor Dumbledore's supervision?


End file.
